


Persuasion

by LadyGlinda



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Drabble, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Sibling Incest, holmescest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:22:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21768295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyGlinda/pseuds/LadyGlinda
Summary: Sherlock has wanted Mycroft for a long time but his brother refused him again and again. Now Sherlock has enough.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Sherlock Holmes
Comments: 28
Kudos: 68





	Persuasion

“See it as a form of education, Mycroft.” Sherlock leaned forward in Mycroft's favourite arm chair. He had occupied it as soon as they had entered the living room so Mycroft had taken the couch after providing each of them with a drink.

The older brother sighed. He had not heard that one. “You must be joking. It makes me wonder if you ever got any education if you don’t know that what you suggest is completely out of the question.”

Sherlock tilted his head. “Is it now? You never looked at my bum when I turned my back to you? You never imagined how these lips,” he pointed at the certainly very attractive lips in question, “would look wrapped around your cock?”

Mycroft tried to keep a completely unfazed expression. Which was not easy when asked – again – to sleep with his beautiful baby brother. “Of course not. You’re my brother.” The brother he had looked after when he had been a little boy. The brother he had helped building a mind palace to structure his ever-screaming brain. The brother he had carried out of drug dens. The brother who was so beautiful and smart and… And this was the path he would never go down. “Find yourself a more suitable partner, Sherlock.” He felt like a parrot. How often had he said this to Sherlock?

The detective snorted. “Who? Gunther?”

Mycroft shook his head, confused. “Who?” He knew all people Sherlock regularly dealt with. A ‘Gunther’ was not among them. Who was this man? How had he overlooked him?

In any way Sherlock was clearly not interested in him. “Exactly. They are not worth my time. And I don’t even know any other gay men.”

“So you are basically saying you chose me because I am the only homosexual you know?” Why did this sting?

Sherlock sighed. “No, I did not mean that. I never bothered to find any other gay men. We are the perfect match, Mycroft. You know that as well as I do.”

“Why – because we are smarter than the rest and both incapable of developing feelings for the unworthy?” Damn…

Sherlock’s mouth twitched with a triumphant grin. “Close enough. You never had a boyfriend, Mycroft. Neither did I.”

“But what about John Wa...”

“Forget John!” flared Sherlock. “I told everybody two million times – we’re not a couple and we never will be! He dates women! Only women.”

“I saw him staring at your bum!” accused Mycroft.

“When – when I wore the bed sheet in...”

“Yes!”

Sherlock waved this away. “I bet your friend Harry was ogling it, too, that doesn’t mean anything. My bottom is spectacular after all. Everybody stares at it.”

Somehow Mycroft didn’t like this image one bit. “Well then,” he said through gritted teeth. “Then you can choose among the entire population.”

“I could,” Sherlock said, modestly. “But I choose _you_.”

“It will not happen,” Mycroft said matter-of-factly. “I told you when you were nineteen. When you were twenty-two. At this Christmas dinner when you...”

“Oh please. Ancient history. We belong together. And I’m not willing to waste any more time. Did you like your drink?” Sherlock smirked.

“What? What does that mean…?” Hadn’t the brandy tasted a tad bitter? Wasn’t he feeling somehow dizzy?

“It means that in about five minutes, you will not be able to get up for about half an hour. A part of you might be able to though; I do count on it to be honest. I tested the substance on myself but I couldn’t exactly get my prick stiff as I couldn’t use my hands so I’m not entirely sure.”

“Substance...” His tongue had become heavy. “What… substance…?” He had only looked away for one moment when his phone had dropped onto the thick carpet and he had bent down to get it. After Sherlock had ‘accidentally’ kicked against the table. Damn… He _was_ slipping...

“Oh, don’t worry. My own invention. Totally safe. No lasting damages.” Sherlock got up and manhandled Mycroft into a lying position, stuffing a few pillows behind his neck.

Mycroft tried to fight him but he found he could not even lift a hand anymore. And his legs felt so heavy. “What… what will you do...” His voice sounded strange to his own ears.

“What you should have let me do more than ten years ago.” Sherlock unzipped Mycroft's trousers and rummaged in the underwear. “I asked you, begged you, again and again…”

“No. You can’t...”

“Hm. You will find that I can. Wow. You’re big.”

Mycroft watched Sherlock carefully freeing his long, pink cock out of its confinements while licking his _[amazing/full/sexy]_ lips. The treacherous thing was stiffening in his hand. “Please...”

“Oh, you don’t have to beg me,” Sherlock smirked. “I will take good care of you. See – he likes it.”

Of course his cock liked to be touched by this wonderfully soft, warm hand. Sherlock had no idea how much he had hated to reject him. Sherlock's advances had come out of nowhere. The boy who had admired him had turned into a moody teenager who hardly greeted him anymore when he rarely came to visit him and their parents. And then, all of a sudden, he'd had an armful of horny Sherlock, who had told him he loved him and wanted to have sex with him. He'd had to say ‘no’. What kind of an older brother would he have been to take advantage of Sherlock's weird infatuation?

He had thought it was a passing whim. But Sherlock had tried it again and again. And his resistance had crumbled more and more but he hadn't shown it. He had dreamt of Sherlock and wanted to give in but he had stayed strong. Yes. He had been jealous of the imaginary man who would get Sherlock one day. He had even kidnapped Doctor Watson when he had shown up in Sherlock's life. But the rational part of him had known he should want them to get together. John was looking after his brother very well.

But obviously these thoughts had been completely futile. After not making any move on him for months, Sherlock had taken to extreme measures tonight.

And God, now he was wrapping his lips around his cock! And how good it felt… “Please no,” he rasped out nonetheless. This was wrong. Not like that…

And to his terror, Sherlock let him go with his eyes full of tears. “I'm sorry,” he sobbed. He rummaged in the small bag he had brought and produced a small bottle. “Stick your tongue out.”

Mycroft gaped at him. “What is this?”

“It will make the other stuff stop working.” Sherlock gave him the saddest look he had ever seen. “I'm not going to poison you, brother. You will take this and then I'll disappear from your life.” His voice sounded flat and hopeless.

Mycroft opened his mouth and poked his tongue out, and when Sherlock had let a few bitter drops trickle onto it, he could feel the life returning to his limbs at once.

Sherlock nodded when he sat up and then he turned to leave.

“Wait,” Mycroft thundered.

Sherlock stopped dead and turned but he didn’t say a word.

“Come back,” Mycroft said much softer. “You silly boy. I never thought… it's so important to you. I thought you… would take what you want and it would damage you. And me.” How would they be supposed to go on as brothers if this failed? He had feared to lose Sherlock forever. Have both their hearts broken. But now… What if it did _not_ fail?

“I told you I love you!”

“Yes. But… Please come back.”

The next moment he got almost crushed when Sherlock hurled himself onto him, but he didn’t grab his cock, which was still hanging out of his trousers but slung his arms around his neck, and Mycroft embraced him and murmured soothing words into his hair. His little brother. His everything.

He held Sherlock close for a couple of minutes before he urged him to get up. “We should get more comfortable. If you are sure you really want to continue.”

“Brother – if you still don’t know how sure I am...”

“All right.” Mycroft offered him his hand, and Sherlock took it, staring down at their entwined fingers with a look full of wonder and reverence, and every bit of resistance in Mycroft vanished. But one thing should be clear… “Sherlock, if you drug me again...”

“Never!” Sherlock assured him, pressing his hand. “I just didn’t know any other way to convince you, you stubborn bastard.”

Mycroft stared at him and Sherlock grinned, happily, and lifted their hands to press a kiss on Mycroft's knuckles. And Mycroft shook his head and chuckled a bit before guiding his little brother upstairs to celebrate his capitulation.

  
  



End file.
